


if people were rain

by howlingheartdemigod (helpmeimstuckon)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Pining, The Mighty Nein (mentioned) - Freeform, Unresolved Feelings, Unresolved Relationship, set sometimes post episode 26th
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helpmeimstuckon/pseuds/howlingheartdemigod
Summary: Yasha was used to knowing she would out live many of her peers. In the circus, this didn’t bother her much. Humans, Tieflings, Dragonborn, half-orc, they all lived short lives. She had convinced herself not to care, until Molly pushed his way through her walls. Molly who still spoke in starts when they met. Molly who existed in kindness, in his odd way, even with how the world had treated him. Even with what the world had taken from him.And now Molly was gone. And despite herself, she cared for the Mighty Nein, these people she would likely live to see die. She wondered if it would hurt more when she lost Beau, than when she lost Molly.~~~Written before episode 46, still semi cannon/Yasha lore compliant. Originally posted on tumblr.





	if people were rain

**Author's Note:**

> title from John Green's 'Looking for Alaska'  
> "So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”

Yasha woke to the soft sound of a door opening. It had been a rare night in an actual Inn with actual beds. Jester and Beau had been kind enough to allow her a bed on her own, since she’d taken the brunt of the hits in battle that day. Plus, she couldn’t sleep through Jester’s kicking and turning like Beau could. She woke at the slightest thing. She figured that’s what made her wake so easily, allowing her a glimpse of blue as the door shut.

 _‘Just Beau.’_ She promised herself. _‘Probably up for morning meditation, or some other monk thing.’_ Yasha tried to roll over in the small bed, but it wasn’t half as comfortable as it had been without the effect of exhaustion weighing on her. And, when she thought about it, there wasn’t nearly enough light creeping through the shades on the window for it to be sunrise. Plus, in the entire time they had known each other, Beau had not meditated once.

Yasha pulled herself up, mulling it over. Maybe Beau needed the washroom. Maybe she was sneaking off for a rendezvous. Maybe late night training with her mysterious cobalt soul friends.

 _Or maybe_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like Molly whispered in her head, _she’s up because she had a nightmare. Because she doesn’t like to bother others with her problems. Maybe she needs you._ Yasha pressed her lips, thinking of Beau dealing with the same nightmares she felt. Thinking of her hiding out from them. Alone, with no one to talk to.

 _‘Fuck you, Mollymauk,’_ Yasha thought, hoping he could feel her annoyance from beyond the veil. She pushed to her feet, the wood rough on her soles. She was the last person Beau should talk to. She was clumsy with her words and emotions, rough in all she did. Really she ought to wake Fjord or Caduceus, who were better with feelings things, or even Caleb, who was messy with emotions, but who seemed to mesh with Beau easily, in a way she was quietly envious of. She wished she could get Mollymauk, but…

Yasha shook the thought of it away. It wouldn’t do well to dwell on that, anyway, she told herself. It wouldn’t help anything to carry his death like a weight. She hoped if she told herself that enough she would believe it. She stepped into her shoes, then followed Beau’s path out, and down the stairs to the tavern.

She found Beau, bathed in soft orange light. She looked out of place, her blues and beauty, in the old wood of the bar. A cup, presumably filled with liquor, rested on the counter in front of her. She leaned over it like a temple over and offering, like she was guarding something precious. ‘ _Or maybe,’_ Yasha reasoned with herself, taking in Beau’s tense shoulders, ‘ _she is just tired.’_ There wasn’t another soul in sight, so it was a fair bet Beau had poured her own cup.

It struck Yasha, as it had many times since Molly’s death, how small Beau was. How human. She was used to knowing she would out live many of her peers. In the circus, this didn’t bother her much. Humans, Tieflings, Dragonborn, half-orc, they all lived short lives. She wondered, though, if elves thought that of her kind. She had convinced herself not to care, until Molly pushed his way through her walls. Molly who still spoke in starts when they met. Molly who existed in kindness, in his odd way, even with how the world had treated him. Even with what the world had taken from him.

And now Molly was gone. And despite herself, she cared for the Mighty Nein, these people she would likely live to see die, except, she hoped, Caduceus. She wondered if it would hurt more when she lost Beau, than when she lost Molly. At least with Molly she’d let herself have true friendship, hadn’t held back anything. She cursed herself for the thought. Pain wasn’t meant to be measured for length. _‘And anyway’_ She chastised herself. _‘Beau is not mine to lose. She can’t be.’_

She shrugged off the selfish thoughts, she hadn’t come to muse on her own pain, but to help shoulder Beau’s if she at all could. She walked through the dingy space, trying to keep form startling Beau. She called out a soft, “Hello.”

Beau jumped, gaze flying over to her, a hand reaching for where Yasha knew she hid her throwing darts. “Oh.” she said, voice soft and rough, seeing who it was. She relaxed a bit, just a bit, and scrubbed at her face with the hand she’d reached for her weapon with, looking guilty. “Yasha. Shit I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, no.” Yasha promised moving closer, but the look Beau gave her was of pure disbelief. “I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.” she admitted, coming to lean on the bar next to her.

Beau seemed to accept that, lifting her cup. “Wanna talk about it?”

Yasha shook her head, “No, I…” She thought a moment, about how to go about it. Beau wouldn’t take well to regular emotional outlets. To being pressed to talking about anything. the Monk was much to guarded for that. “I figured you’d be able to find me a drink.”

Beau smiled a little, and reached over the bar. “Well, fair warning, the barkeep has no idea what she’s doing.” Beau retrieved a bottle. “But,” She continued as Yasha took the seat next to her. “She pours heavy, so she’s got that going for her.”

Beau poured a cup and slid it over to Yasha who raised it in thanks then took a sip. She just kept herself from choking. It was cheap mash liquor at best, straight, not meant to enjoy, but to get you where you’re wanting to be, fast. The burn lessened as she took a second sip, and she watched Beau tilt the whole contents of her cup back, then pour another.

Yasha watched Beau stare down at the cup, then the Monk broke, laughing a little.

“You alright?” Yasha asked.

“Just… thinking.” She shook her head. “Mollymauk wouldn’t flinch at this stuff. And you know, my parents, they would be horrified seeing me. The thought the Cobalt Reserve would turn me into the obedient studious daughter they wanted, so they could marry me off or shove the family business off on me. But I am here, in this, tiny town, getting drunk on bottom shelf moonshine, and looking for the next paycheck or woman to bed.” As Beau let out a bark of laughter, Yasha pushed past the shock of pain thinking of Beau’s affection for other women. She didn’t get to be upset about that. “I think,” Beau continued, tongue loosened by the drink. “that my mother would be most upset about the women. My father, however, would be most disappointed about the drink.”

“You think?” Yasha prompted, lifting her cup to take another drink.

Beau nodded, humming. “Oh yeah. They’re the worst kind of wine people. Snooty and highbrow. Always think they know best for everyone and everything.” She shook her head. “It’s… It’s whatever. They ain’t here, they don’t care about me, and they wouldn’t be proud of me if I shit stardust.”

Yasha watched as Beau sank back down into her drink, and her heart ached. _‘I am proud of you,’_ she thought. _‘I care about you. I am here. You are my stardust. You are bright and beautiful, and I know if I let myself to get close enough to touch I will burn up. I would let myself for you.’_

Yasha cleared her throat. “The Mighty Nein is proud of you.” She said, managing to pull the words from her throat, and distance herself from them all at once. “We see what you do. You work so hard to keep us together.” Yasha watched Beau’s mouth open to protest, a hand lifting to brush the words off. Yasha reached to rest her fingers on Beau’s wrist. She felt the woman's heart thrumming beneath dark skin. She had to push through thoughts of how pale her skin looked next to Beau’s. How ghastly, how full of death next to this wonderful, lively woman. “I mean it, Beau.” she insisted. “You keep us whole. We…” Her voice caught, and she lifted her eyes from where they touched to Beau’s searching blue eyes. “We need you. We’re proud of you. and I… I see the way you shoulder the burden. The pain. and I just want you to know that you don’t have to do that alone.” Yasha dropped her eyes again. “You don’t have to bear the weight of Nein, the grief of Nein, on your own.”

Yasha felt Beau’s eyes scan her, searching, but she didn’t know what for. Yasha wanted to meet her gaze, to pull her close. Wanted to let the feelings that threatened to boil over, that simmered despite her effort to kill the heat, take control.

 _‘I want you.’_ Her soul cried out. _‘I want this. I can not have it, and even if I could, you deserve someone who can be here.’_

“Thank you, Yasha.” Beau’s voice was heavy, and caught in a way Yasha had never known before. “for… Thank you.” Beau moved slowly, like she was scared of Yasha pulling away. She laced their fingers together, and gave a squeeze. “I don’t… I don’t think I know how to share this, though.”

Yasha looked up at the confession, watching Beau as she turned her head away, staring at the dim lantern light behind the bar, or perhaps at something far beyond that.

“You can talk to me.” Yasha’s voice surprised even herself. “If you want. If you don’t… just know I’m here.”

 _When I can be,_  went unspoken between them. They both had responsibilities, Yasha’s just took her from where she would like to be.

“I know.” Beau said, eyes locked with Yasha’s.

Yasha’s heart rate spiked, and she swallowed hard. She realized all at once she was still holding Beau’s hand She was holding her and blushing. How truly odd it was, to have denied herself something that bring her joy. How odd it was that she would only continue to do so.

To her surprise, Beau pulled her hand away. She watched as Beau turned in her seat, facing her. “I’ll tell you, if I ever find the words.” she promised. “I just, hope you do the same.”

Yasha nodded, “Of course.” She said, the lie sour on her tongue. Beau’s hand drifted to her belt, where a strip of colorful fabric was. Purple, and pink, and orange and red, standing out among her blues and tans. She ran her fingers along it, eyes dropping. Molly, it seemed, was an everlasting presence.

“He would be proud.” Yasha said, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Beau nodded. “Of you.” Before Yasha could deflect, a hitch in Beau’s breath caught Yasha’s ear. “I’m sorry, Yasha. I’m so sorry, I should have…”

“No, Beau, I should have done more, I should have fought harder to get free, I could have-” she started voice overlapping.

“You tried, and it's not like... you didn't know what was going to happen, so-”

“Well, neither did you.” Yasha said, voice insistent. “We didn’t know.” She turned and their knees bumped, a point of contact, an anchor. “We couldn’t have possibly knows. And he would not forgive us for blaming ourselves. He would be proud of us. And we must let that be enough.” She pressed her lips. “This is Mollymauk we are talking about. He would… He would not want us to sit back dreaming of pasts we can not change.” she said, the words feeling heavy and hypocritical on her tongue. “He would want us to go on. To live.”

Beau stared at Yasha, blue eyes wide, lips parted, and Yasha wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

Yasha wanted that. Wanted to take Beau’s cherished face in her hands and press her lips to Beau’s. She wanted to know if she tasted like she lived, bright, lively, brash. She wanted to know if her lips would feel as soft as they looked. She wanted to know is she kissed how she fought. She looked at Beau and wanted to kiss her. Wanted to know if Beau would kiss her back.

But she couldn’t. She never could. It wasn’t fair to Beau, to not give her full self, and she never would. And even if she could, she didn't want to do it like this. Not in a dirty bar with the smell of spilled ale and sweat in the air. Not drinking what was barely fit to clean the floor with. Beau deserved beauty. She deserved sunrise and mountains. She deserved flowers.

Beau took a breath after a moment, and pulled back, eyes looking away again. She poured herself another drink, then topped off Yasha’s. “To living, like Molly would want us to.” she said, lifting the cup, seeming to be unaware of the turmoil in Yasha’s head. They tapped their cups, and Beau downed hers in one go. It took Yasha a moment longer to drink it, and as she finished hers, Beau left a gold on the counter, took the bottle, and headed for the door. “Don’t wait up.” she said. “I’ll be back in the morning.” Beau looked back, and gave a little smile, her voice went soft, almost reverent. “I’ll see you later… Yasha.”

When Beau opened the door, Yasha saw the faint grey in the sky, a promise of morning. She relished in it a moment, watching this woman she believed she could love in another life leave. As the door shut, she noticed something else on the horizon; a mass of dark clouds, heading their way. It was nearly time, she realized. But she would be back. She took a breath, and realized that she would always be back.

The door closed on Beau, and Yasha stared at the lantern behind the bar. She let her eyes drift shut a moment, and she listened. Listened for the thunder as far as it was, listened for the call of the Stormlord, listened for what to do now.

But echoing around her head, all she could hear was Beau, saying her name like a prayer.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. please leave a comment if you have a minute. this was unbeta'ed so if you see a typo, let me know.


End file.
